


Locked away in glass

by agameoflesmis



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:31:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agameoflesmis/pseuds/agameoflesmis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's a bad girl.<br/>She's scarred.<br/>"What about your group? And where to? There's not a place for us to hide."<br/>"I don't care, as long as I have you."<br/>The glass shatters.<br/>A glistening tear rolls down her cheek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Locked away in glass

She's a bad girl.  
It's her life. Calling shots and getting drunk each night. Slamming cars and breaking window panes. Hanging out with the boys, hooking up, getting in bed. Skipping school, burning books, swearing at teachers. Staying at the police station. Laughing at the good kids. Escaping from jail. Shop lifting. Playing pranks. If-you-don't-gimme-this-by-tomorrow-your-eyes-will-be-dug-out threats. Taking drugs. Smoking.She's done it all.  
She's a bad girl.   
A very, very bad girl.

She's a scarred soul.  
It's her life. Throwing up isn't something a girl could get used to. Feeling guilty for doing this but hating because she once had the chance to be a victim when she actually owned Something. The boys leave her, her relationships don't last. She was once a great student. The police station scared her. Silently crying because she isn't one of the good kids anymore. She knows she'll never really escape. If she had the money she would've bought the items. If she had anything left of her she wouldn't have ever done it. Her first drug was forced down by a man. Smoking and coughing late at night. She's felt it all.  
She's a scarred soul.  
A very, very scarred soul.

But with him, it's different. For the first time, it lasts. She actually matters. It's her feelings, not her body. He'd clean up after her. Always. Comfort her when she's weeping. Bailing her. Helping her. Bringing her a cup of tea and patting her back, coaxing her back to sleep when she's coughing or wakes up from a nightmare of her past. With him, it feels like she actually has a soul. A beautiful, naive, clear, blank, unbroken soul. A very fragile one too. Like glass. So far he's kept it safe, protecting it like it's his own. Loving it with all his heart. Her heart is locked away, inside a glass wall. Where no one might ever reach. Except for him.

What is she thinking? She's seen his kind before. Fooling around, playing with you until you've fallen hard for him. Then, taking a step back and breaking her heart. But her instincts tell her he means it. The pride and admiration she can see in his eyes every time she is sober, or calm, or just standing beside him, while he introduces her to his friends. They're a passionate group, all fighting for the freedom of this country. It hurts her to admit that they won't ever succeed, because she's seen it all, these beautiful young minds dedicated to their dream. She's been part of it. As far as she knows the rest of her group are still in prison/died. Since when did she start trusting her instincts? She's been cut too deep to actually know. 

"Here."  
"Where'd you get this?" She exclaims as she turns the ring on her finger, admiring it in the sunlight.  
"I....I stole it. For you."  
Right. He could never afford this. But why?  
"Why?"  
"I wanted a way to say I love you."  
"They'll come after you , you know. Something this valuable."  
"Then we'll go. Run away. Go somewhere else and start all over again."  
"What about your group? And where to? There's not a place for us to hide."  
"I don't care. As long as I have you."  
The glass shatters.  
"I love you."   
A glistening tear rolls down her cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> Had the sudden inspiration...so yep  
> Comment for suggestions :)


End file.
